Bad Company
by Fairady
Summary: Natasha Stark has too many days that begin with her waking up after being knocked out for it to bother her anymore.


Disclaimer: I own not and make no money off of this.

Warnings: Deadpool. Genderbend.

Notes: I think I started this for the marvel kink meme way too long ago.

Bad Company  
by Fairady

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Natasha Stark wakes up to a pounding headache, the taste of something that can only be described as _death _in her mouth, a symphony of screaming aches and bruises, and no idea what happened to cause it all. It says something about her life that this is not even close to being the first time it's happened. Nor, sadly enough, will it be the last.

She opens her eyes and is immediately confronted with the floor. A pretty good indication that the next few minutes are not going to be pleasant. No day has ever ended well when she wakes up on the floor. Especially not when the floor looks like it came out of the wrong end of a war. Shifting reveals she isn't tied up or otherwise bound and only slightly improves the day.

Only slightly, because a vaguely familiar voice begins to talk. "Finally! An audience. I was getting bored of me, myself, and these four walls."

A very, very familiar voice. Natasha slowly sits up as the memories finally start to come back. Another be there or lose business party. Too many glasses of champagne, and not enough good looking men or women in attendance. Screams, because there are _always _screams at those things. Gunfire, and a gravelly voiced mercenary. And, because it was never a real black-out without one, an explosion.

"Deadpool," Natasha finally says after confirming that, yes, she was in fact trapped in a small room with the reputedly crazed mercenary. It used to be a study with a rather impressive view if she remembers rightly. Though now the only view it has is of concrete chunks and broken glass.

"Oh wow! The crazy-hot chick knows my name!" Deadpool had been leaning against a far wall before, but was suddenly closer to her. Uncomfortably closer, she shifted back trying to put some space between them. "Wait, you one of my fangirl stalkers? Not that I'm judging, because hell yeah I'd so do you. Just curious about why you wouldn't say something before, babe."

"What!"

"Sooooo, that's a no then? Pity, but still workable. I'd still do you even though you aren't one of those crazy stalker fangirls, because I'm just such a nice guy."

"That's not-" Natasha growled before reminding herself, crazy mercenary. All the psych profiles she'd read had been sure to emphasis the whole living-in-his-own-world aspect of the man's craziness. Arguing or trying to understand him was futile. That didn't mean she had to listen to him though. "Shut up!"

"Oh, kinky! Sorry, but," Deadpool seemed to grin beneath his mask even as he shook his head, "you're hot, babe, but not that hot. And you're also not kinky enough to carry your own bondage gear around with you. So that's not going to happen anytime soon."

"That's not what the press thinks," Natasha snapped her mouth shut with a wince. One of these days she'd learn to keep her mouth shut when dealing with insane people that only took that as encouragement.

"Oh yeah," Deadpool rocked back on his heels, head tilting up to the ceiling though the eyes of his mask never left her. "Well I also kinda sorta checked you out- I mean _over _while you were out and I know you don't have a ballgag anywhere on you. Don't worry, I didn't cop more than a feel or two. Scout's honor!"

_Bullshit_. Natasha groaned and closed her eyes, feeling a touch violated at the thought of the mercenary touching her. It was a sign of how out of it she was that it took her a few more seconds to realize the implications of that. Her eyes snapped open as one hand flew up to the arc reactor, still covered by the high line of her dress but it wouldn't take much to reveal it.

"So what's up with the hardware?" Deadpool seemed to have been waiting for her reaction. His voice became sly and all too knowing."You into some sort of kinky matching thing with your body guard? Who just so happens to be conveniently absent at the moment."

Natasha lashed out. Her fist glancing off a sharp jaw with not nearly enough force.

"Ow! Any~way!" Deadpool sang as he skipped out of arms reach, twirling back to the rubble that used to be a doorway. Gloved hands going back to fiddling with something attached to a large beam. Something that looked suspiciously like an explosive. "Time to blow this popsicle stand!"

Oh, god.

"No!" Natasha flung herself at the _insane_ asshole. Putting all her weight and momentum into the elbow she throws into his sternum, neatly knocking him away from the _explosive _he'd attached to the support beam. She ripped it off the beam with fingers that she tries to tell herself aren't shaking and just stared at the grumpy man gingerly picking himself off the ground. Adrenaline, fear, and pure rage choke her up. It's a fight to push words through her throat.

"Are you crazy?" Natasha finally yelled.

Deadpool stopped and looked at her, eerily silent for several seconds. "Have you been _listening _to anything I've said in the past ten minutes?"

Point. "This would have brought the whole thing down on us!" She said, trying and failing to not scream. "That beam blocking the exit is the only thing acting as support for the ceiling! Blowing it up would have killed us!"

"Well, excuuuuuuuuse me for trying," Deadpool sighed looking oddly put out for a man wearing a mask. "Besides, it wouldn't have killed _us_. I got a healing factor so I would've been just fine. So, nyah-nyah!"

"Excuse me for wanting to live then!" She ripped the important wires out of the small explosive. Taking no small pleasure in destroying them as much as is possible. It was still usable, but it'd take some jerry rigging to do it.

"I was only trying to get out, I've got a very important date with a target and each minute here with your boudaciousness gets me further and further away from a cool million," Deadpool said with a sigh as if explaining something very simple to a child. "You know how many boxes of Oreos that can get me!"

"Yes!" As a matter of fact, she did. Not that it mattered as Deadpool pulled out another set of explosives from one of the million pouches he wore. Natasha was starting to feel the ache of being tossed around by whatever had blown the room in -and she wasn't ruling Deadpool out as a possible cause- and didn't feel like wrestling the mercenary for another bomb. "Stop! Look, if I have sex with you will you quit trying things that'll get me killed?"

"Is that one of those philosophical questions that you're not really supposed to answer? Cause I got to tell you-"

"Deadpool," Natasha slapped a hand over the area of the mask that moved the most. Using that hand and a hooked foot around his ankles she pushed the man to the ground following quickly so he wouldn't lose interest. "Shut. Up."

"Shut up? Me! I think that qualifies as cruel and unusual punishment," gloved hands gripped her hips firmly, "but if you're so desperate to have hot monkey sex with me I'll consider it. Sweecheeks."

Natasha narrows her eyes, "I've changed my mind. Talk all you want, just don't call me anymore pet names."

"You got yourself a deal," Deadpool said with poorly disguised glee.

Not for the first time, and definitely not for the last, Natasha cursed her life.

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End file.
